Page 57 of The Holy Grail
Jules took in a deep, calming breath and released it slowly. She could tell he was uncomfortable telling her this, so she knew there was more. “That seems like a rather big leap to make, just because of a pink shirt.”
“Well, this was also around the time when most guys my age were having sex with girls, playing sports, drinking, and getting high on the weekends.”
“And I take it you weren’t doing those things?”
“Well, yes to the drinking and getting high, but sex with girls, and sports? No, because I was chronically shy when it came to girls, and the only sport I was involved in was track, which my dad didn’t think was a real sport.”
“I’m starting toreallynot like your dad,” Jules murmured darkly.
Malcom gave a short nod, then continued. “He was mostly concerned about my lack of a girlfriend, though, and by proxy a lack of potential sex—”
“Jesus Christ. You were only, what? Sixteen years old?”
“Yes, but that was old enough to have a girlfriend—and certainly old enough to have sex.”
“So, your father was actually worried because you weren’t actively trying to have sex?”
“Withgirls,” Malcom clarified.
Jules wasn’t sure how to process what she was hearing. A parent exerting pressure on their child to become sexually active, in order to assuage their concerns the child was gay? That would be bad enough if the child was straight, but if the childwasgay, it would be even worse, she imagined. Especially if the child wasn’t in an environment where being gay was acceptable and they didn’t feel safe coming out, yet.
“That must have been pretty uncomfortable, being a young man and having your dad questioning your sexuality,” she finally said.
“It was. But honestly, our relationship has always been uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable, how?”
“Well, he and I have never been close, partly because he was forty when I was born, and partly because I’m nothing like him and my brother, Martin. My father never understood me, or knew how to relate to me on any significant level because of our differences, nor did he ever really try. But I think as I got older, our differences became … problematic.”
“Problematic?”
“Glaring might be a better word. He probably thought I would outgrow being shy and sensitive, but I never did. And he’s never said it outright, but I know he never liked my shyness and sensitivity, because those aren’t masculine qualities.”
“Yes, they are.”
“To him, they’re not. And in his mind, they made me a poor reflection of him, because image was—well, it still is—very important to him. That’s why, when I chose a different area of law and went to work for another company, it really bothered him, because it looked bad. Optics are everything, right? So, when his shy and sensitive son, who doesn’t compete in a real sport and isn’t actively trying to sleep with girls shows up at breakfast in a pink shirt, he jumped on the one explanation that seemed obvious to him … that I was possibly gay.” He paused for a moment. “A possibility he didn’t like very much.”
“How much didn’t he like it?”
“A lot.”
“Define ‘a lot’.”
“He was never physically abusive, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I was, actually. It seems like something he might engage in.”
“No. He considered physical violence to be vulgar and low-class, demonstrating an appalling lack of self-control, which to him is unforgivable. His choice of weapon was always verbal—”
“Because that’s not vulgar or low-class?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, that depends on who you ask, I guess.” After a long pause, Jules asked, “How long did this go on for? Him worried you were gay?”
“Not long. I started making an effort to appear more ‘straight’ because that seemed like the best solution at the time.”
“What did that entail?”
